


and no static on the line

by Eatsscissors



Category: The OC
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-20
Updated: 2010-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eatsscissors/pseuds/Eatsscissors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've decided to try a long-distance relationship while they're both in college.  Let's see how that works out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and no static on the line

**Author's Note:**

> CONTAINS: Masturbation, language, explicit sex. Contact me if you need or want to know more.  
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: Written for the 2010 Kink Bingo, under the prompt "phonesex."

It takes Ryan two hours after the last final of his sophomore year to even find enough energy to make it back to the apartment, not to mention two coffees and a bag of Cheetos. He promises himself that he'll eat actual food again when he's home for the summer and Kirsten promises that she'll order in. The point is that's it's done, and not only is Ryan certain that he'll pass, he thinks that he's going to get an A, B+ if Professor Sarkozy is feeling irritable while she's grading. He kinda wants to call Sandy or Seth and tell them right away, like a kid putting up his finger paintings on the refrigerator.

Instead, Ryan nods to Corey, who is has his Economics 2014 final the next morning and is still desperately studying and muttering to himself in the living room, digging his phone out of his pocket as he's passing through. He shuts the bedroom door behind him, makes certain that it's locked as he toes off his shoes and hits the second speed-dial.

"Hey, Taylor," Ryan says when he hears the other end pick up, before she even has to say her name.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Atwood," Taylor answers brightly, which Ryan is taking to mean that her own finals went well, too. She's in New York this semester, as part of a grand quest to visit every linguistics program in the United States and Europe until she has cobbled together a degree. While Ryan is settling down onto his bed, he can hear the voices of Taylor's housemates gradually receding, the snick of a door being closed. While he focuses on her breathing coming across the line, he can also hear that she's making herself comfortable, too. Ryan pictures her unzipping her boots and sliding her jeans down her legs before she settles herself down amongst the pillows, and--no. No jeans. A dress, something bright and summery that she can hike up her thighs, and sandals that she might just have kept on because she was too eager to get up onto the bed to deal with the straps. He starts massaging himself through the front of his jeans, very lightly for now.

"Sounds like everything went well," Ryan says.

"Dean's list," Taylor says happily. "I might even stay here another year just to revel in it. You?"

"Depends on how much my calculus professor likes me," Ryan admits. "Luckily, I think she likes me."

"Well, _I_ like you," Taylor says. Ryan hears her shift, like maybe she's putting her arm behind her head. He imagines that her hair is down, a few pieces clinging to the sides of her neck, falling into the hollow of her throat. "And I even like you for your brain, too, so you're bound to ace it."

"Just for my brain?" Ryan asks her, deliberately deepening his voice, hears her breathing speed up a little and the arm move. He knuckles a little harder against his half-hard cock.

"Our lease is up in a week," Taylor says. "I have to put in an appearance with my mother--" Taylor still sounds strained when she mentions the woman that Ryan is very careful to never call Medusa to Taylor's actual face. "But then I'm, ah, all yours. I thought that I would drive up to Berkeley and spend a week or two with you."

"So not just for my brain," Ryan goes on, pleased when he hears Taylor laugh. "What are you going to do when you get here--in English." Taylor has kept him on edge for more than half an hour before by her voice rising and falling into the musical syllables of French, before she finally burst into giggles and revealed that she had been reciting the Macy's catalogue and somehow managing to make it sound like one of her love poems as read by a porn star.

Taylor giggles again. "Okay," she says. "First, you're going to take me out to dinner. Somewhere nice. Somewhere with candles. I'm going to sit across the table from you, not beside you. I might not be able to keep my hands off of you right there in front of everyone if we stay too close."

Ryan leans his head back further against his pillows and pictures Taylor's long nails tracing circles along his thighs while a tablecloth keeps the waiter from seeing. "You're going to wear a skirt," he says, not a question, picturing again that she's already in it and that she's scooting herself lower amidst the bedclothes and parting her knees, the skirt falling down further on her shapely, golden thighs. She's wearing panties, but only because she just got back from class. Her fingers are teasing at the skin around her navel, but going no lower just yet. The heels of her sandals are making indentations in the bedclothes.

"Because it's someplace nice," Taylor agrees. "But a short one, because I don't want to be. I'm going to sit across from you where you can't touch me yet, and I'm going to kick my shoes off halfway through the second course, and I'm going to put my foot in your lap." She breathes out a little sigh, making Ryan imagine that her nails have just started to skim past the edge of her panties and then lower. "Unless you want me to keep the heels on."

Ryan makes a sound that he did not intend and undoes the fly of his jeans so that he touch himself. "Let's wait on that," he says.

"Okay," Taylor answers, and it ends on a sigh. She's probably starting to slide her fingers down into her panties by now and is teasing herself slick. Not too hard or fast, yet. She likes it when it doesn't give her what she wants right away. "I'm going to put my foot into my lap and run it up and down your thigh and over your dick until you can't think of anything other than fucking me right there on the table." Taylor was so--Taylor, that Ryan had been shocked the first time they were together to discover what an absolutely filthy mouth Taylor had as soon as the bedroom door shut behind her, even though he shouldn't have been. Not when the phrase "jungle gym" had been uttered on their very first date. "And we're going to stay all the way through dessert and coffee."

"Oh, the fuck we are," Ryan breathes, tightening his grip on his cock and twisting just a little bit, so that it can feel like someone else's hand touching him. There are two Taylors in his head right now, one of them with her hair up and grinning impishly across a table at him, and the other sprawled out on her back with her legs spread wide, pushing her panties to the side so that she can slide her fingers in and out of herself. They both make Ryan groan, and the phone is getting slick against the palm of his hand. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you just as soon as I get you back here, for that?"

"Tell me," Taylor says; it rises towards a whine at the end. She probably has two fingers inside of herself by now, thumb circling her clit. Ryan keeps jerking himself off and for a second or two has a third Taylor in his head, this one with her hair falling down over his thighs while she licks his cock like a sundae.

"I'm carrying you inside," Ryan says. He hears Taylor gasp as she hits someplace good. Her blouse is pushed up to the lower edge of her bra, and the muscles of her abdomen are just starting to flutter. "I don't care if Corey's around. I'm gonna kick the door to my room shut, and I want him to hear it."

"I'll scream so loud for you that you won't be able to look him in the eye the next morning," Taylor says to him. Ryan hears her bedsprings start to move as she pushes down against her hand, imagining that it's him. Her panties have to be useless by now. "Ryan, I want you so much, how long as it been?"

"Spring break," Ryan says, knowing exactly where Taylor is right now. They had met up in Florida and proceeded to get sand in places that had taken hours in the shower to get out again, even if they hadn't gotten distracted in there, too.

"Spring break," Taylor agrees. "I've been touching myself thinking about you for two months, I want you inside of me so fucking much that it hurts."

Ryan's mouth has long since gone dry, and he licks his lips a few times before he goes on. The Taylor on her bed and masturbating on her fingers to thoughts of it being his cock has enough sweat in the hollow of her throat to make those rebel hairs stick there; the one that he'll be seeing soon has her hair all in a disarray and her lipstick long since transferred from her face to his, because he hasn't been able to keep his mouth off of her for more than a few seconds since he brought the two of them through the door.

"I'm going to throw you down on the bed and pull your blouse off," he keeps going. He drops the phone for a second that's probably lucky, because he only catches the tail end of Taylor's moan as he brings it back up to his ear.

"Leave my skirt on," Taylor hisses to him, not a request. "I'm yanking your pants off and pushing my panties to the side, I can't wait any longer than that. I get on top of you on the bed without even taking off my heels."

"Fuck me, Taylor," Ryan groans into the phone. He can see it, all of it, him with three buttons on his shirt missing because Taylor started to undress him all the way before changing her mind and deciding that they didn't need anything other than the essentials, Taylor above him with her hair falling down over her shoulder and her skirt up around her waist. She's wearing panties that were hardly anything to begin with, but the flash of lace before she pulls it to the side and guides his cock into her is almost too much. It doesn't matter if Corey knows what's going on; the whole apartment complex is going to know before it's over. His grasp on himself is harder, rougher, while his brain is filled with Taylor's pussy around his cock, already fluttering as she puts one hand down against his abdomen to brace herself before she starts to rock and rise. He has his hands on her hips to steady her and then his mouth on her breasts. She's whispering his name above his head as he takes a nipple into his mouth.

"Do you know how good you feel when you're inside me, Ryan?" Taylor asks him. His name rises towards a keen at the end. "When you're about to split me in fucking two and we're watching each other while we fuck, I swear, I never want to--oh, my God!" Taylor's voice turns into a yelp. She's got her hips alternately arched up from the bed and then bearing down, Ryan knows that she does, replacing her fingers with his cock the same way that he's replacing his hand with her pussy, her mouth, every inch, _her, her, her._ "If you were really here, I would have come already."

"Come on, sweetheart," Ryan tells her. Taylor makes a sharp sound that nearly brings him there. He deliberately slows his grip and tightens it, trying to replicate the way that she feels when she's almost there. Both Taylor's dip their chins and close their eyes, faces tightening in concentration, and keep rocking their hips. "Come for me, Taylor, I want to hear you come." She's repeating his name in a low, thready whine, over and over again, as Ryan says, "We aren't going to leave his bed for three days, I'm going to fuck you until neither one of us can move--" The real Taylor wails; both of the women in his head shudder. Ryan pictures her hips slipping back down to the bed, her fingers slipping out of herself. He's still jerking himself off in time to both of their breathing, and it's almost, it's not quite--

"Ryan," Taylor says distinctly into his ear, as if she's right there. She pauses, and he can imagine that she's running her tongue along her lower lip. "I forgot to tell you. When you hike my skirt up, and leave my heels on, I'm going to forget to take off my hose."

Ryan laughs a little, even though this isn't exactly a laughing time. "Taylor, that doesn't really work--"

"It's okay, though," Taylor continues as if he hadn't spoken. "They're garters. I wore them because I had a feeling."

"Fuck!" Ryan grinds his teeth together and comes hard across his hand, colors flashing behind his eyes. "That was wrong," he tells Taylor when he gets his breath back enough to speak.

"Maybe," Taylor says. She sounds as if she's fighting back the urge to giggle. "But I'm going to have to get some garters before I get on the plane aren't I?"

"Fucking gross, I'm not going to get _any_ studying done," Ryan hears Corey saying from the living room. He tells Taylor, "Bring some heels, too."

End


End file.
